Anthony & Jennifer
by MayhemPoetry
Summary: Tony and Jennifer's romance after the events of my other story, "Let It Happen," told through a series of vignettes.
1. Waking Up

**Author's Note: This is a sequel/companion piece to my other story, "Let It Happen." It's not necessary to have read that one, but this story might make more sense if you have. This isn't going to be a coherent, chapter-by-chapter story. Basically each chapter is going to be a little vignette exploring Tony and Melfi's romance after the events of "Let It Happen". Some chapters will be lemony (like this one), some not; every chapter will stand on its own and not really be related to the others. As always, I'd really appreciate reviews, especially any constructive criticism you can offer. Happy reading!**

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They are the property of David Chase and HBO. I'm not making any money off of this and this is just for my own amusement._

Tony Soprano groaned as his mind passed from the tranquil oblivion of sleep to the stark reality of wakefulness. He didn't want to be awake, because his first coherent thought told him that it was Sunday, and that today marked the end of his idyllic weekend alone with the woman whose nude body was still spooned against his, just the way that they had fallen asleep the night before. It was comfortable and warm there with her, whereas waking up and getting out of bed would mean that Tony was that much closer to having to return home to the cold stares and bitter words of his wife.

Carmella had been through the paces with Tony and his affairs enough times to know when he was cheating on her. She had yet to confront him about it, but he knew she knew that there was someone else. He was just waiting for the shit to hit the fan, not knowing what he would do or say when it finally did. In the past it had always been so easy for him to kick his goomars and other flings to the curb when Carmella began to get jealous or when he no longer felt that he was having "fun" with them anymore.

Jennifer Melfi, sleeping peacefully next to him, was no goomar. The relationship that they now shared had been eight years in the making before they had even become intimate, and Tony knew that what he felt for her was, as he had confessed to his closest friends when they had inquired about his new woman, "the real deal." Carmella had been his sweetheart, and he cared about her as his wife of more than twenty years and the mother of his children, but Jennifer was his passion, and he knew that he could never _not_ have her in his life.

Tony closed his eyes and put his head back on the pillow, still tired and desperately wanting to be unconscious. The morning sun, bright and insistent as it streamed through the curtains, was brutal, and the intensity of his thoughts would not allow him to go back to sleep. Frustrated, he threw the sheets off of himself, uncovering Jennifer in the process. She made a sleepy little noise of protest as the cool air hit her bare skin, but didn't open her eyes or give any other sign of having been roused. As Tony went to put the blanket over her, he found himself studying her body, the soft luminescence of her skin, the swell of her full breasts and the perfection of her every curve. He felt a stirring of need as he watched the way her chest rose and fell with every shallow breath.

Aroused, he put his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. If he wasn't going to go back to sleep, then he wanted her awake. He felt himself growing hard with desire, and he wanted her pressed against him, wanted her lips and tongue twined with his and her moans in his ear. He said her name as he gave her another shake, and she responded with a groan of protest.

"Time to get up, Jen," he said.

"Don't wanna," she replied in a thick, drowsy voice. She opened her eyes only slightly, glaring at him.

"Oh, c'mon," Tony encouraged, leaning in to kiss her cheek and then the corner of her mouth, hoping to tempt her into wakefulness. Instead, she rolled away from him, pulling the covers up over her head.

"Leave me alone," she said faintly.

"Fine," replied Tony, annoyed, "Sleep all fuckin' day."

He got out of bed and left her there, gathering his clothes from the floor and heading for the bathroom. He had only been romantically involved with Jennifer for two months, and he still didn't feel entirely "at home" in her house, but he felt comfortable enough to hop into the shower. He anticipated the warm spray of the water on his skin and the opportunity to rid himself of the erection that clearly wasn't going to be taken care of any other way. Tony got a towel and grabbed a bar of his soap out of the shaving kit that he now kept at Jennifer's for nights when he stayed over.

He had just settled under the flowing water and begun to lather himself up when he heard the shower door slide open and felt arms wrap around him from behind. Jennifer's breasts were soft as they pressed against his back, and her lips electric on his shoulder. He spun around to look at her and felt a fresh stirring of arousal as he took in the way the water washed in rivers down her naked body. She stood on the tips of her toes so that her face was level with his and then leaned in to kiss him. When she darted her tongue out between his lips, Tony wound his arms around her, drawing her in close.

"Sorry I was so mean to you when you tried to get me up," she whispered against his mouth.

"It's okay," he replied, stroking up and down her back, hypnotized by the slippery feel of her wet skin. She touched him as well, running one of her hands along his side. Her mouth pulled away from his, and she planted soft, fleeting kisses on his neck before she moved lower to the middle of his chest, running her tongue along his skin and sighing at the dark taste of him beneath the freshness of the water. He smiled to himself as she trailed her hands down his chest, her tongue following the same path until she was kneeling in front of him.

When he felt her mouth on him, Tony groaned in delight. She licked from the base of him all the way up his length, then took just his head into her mouth, sucking gently. He looked down at her, and saw that her gaze was on him. She caught his eye and then sunk her mouth down, taking in all of him. Tony moaned as he felt her mouth sliding up and down his length, reveling in the pleasure that her vice-like lips and stroking tongue brought to him. Both his hands tangled in her hair, and he tried to raise her up so that he could kiss her, make love to her properly, but she sunk her fingers into the flesh of his buttocks and sucked him harder, wanting him to spill in her mouth. Tony cried out her name as he felt his orgasm washing over him, trembling as he came. His breath was heavy when she stood up and leaned her head on his chest, which rose and fell rapidly as he sucked air into his lungs.

"You are fucking amazing, Jen," he said, kissing her forehead and then each of her cheeks. She said nothing, simply held onto him and closed her eyes as he stroked her skin, moving his hands gently all over her. They held each other underneath the shower's spray until the water began to cool off and Jennifer started to shiver. He wrapped her up in a towel when they emerged from the stall, drying first her hair and then her body before taking her hand and leading her into the bedroom so that they could finish what they had begun.


	2. Little Rituals

Jennifer sat on the bathroom counter with her knees drawn up to her chest. The steady, flowing noise of water rushing from the tap and washing into the basin of the sink was like a melody to her sleep-addled mind. She watched intently as Tony cleaned off the blade of his razor and then lifted the instrument to his face, dragging it over his skin and creating a flesh-colored trail in the white of the shaving cream that covered his chin and cheeks. He looked into the mirror, noticed her watching him, and the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement.

"What is it with women bein' obsessed with men shaving?" he asked, "My daughter used to like to watch me, too, when she was a kid."

Jennifer shrugged. "I never used to watch my father shave, or my ex. Only you. You fascinate me." She blushed as the last sentence slipped from her mouth. She had been thinking it, but hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Do I?" he asked. She remained silent, looking away from him to stare at the wall.

"You like to watch me while I'm putting on my makeup," she said after a long pause.

Tony gave the faintest grunt of agreement and then went back to shaving. _He likes to brush my hair, too_, Jennifer said to herself, turning back to him. She thought of how he would sometimes slide in behind her while she was sitting on the bed combing her hair, how he would take the brush from her and run it gently through her locks, following its path with his fingers. Such a small gesture, yet so intimate, and so endearing the way that he seemed to revel in the feel of her hair. Jennifer realized that she intrigued him as much as he did her, and the faintest flutter of a smile appeared on her face.

Never before had she been so enthralled with a man, not even with Richard in the earliest days of their courtship, when she had been very young and basically innocent, and her now-resented ex had seemed like a demigod. Watching Tony Soprano splash aftershave on his skin, Jennifer suddenly knew that her marriage, the few-and-far-between dates she'd had after the divorce, even the brief reconciliation with Richard a few years ago had all been merely practice runs for this.

With every day that passed, each night that he stayed, each morning that she woke up next to him, Jennifer's life became progressively more tangled up with Tony's. She knew that soon, they would be so entwined that she'd never be able to undo all of the knots. Jennifer had been afraid, when their relationship was new, of precisely that possibility. Months she had spent waiting for the ball to drop in the form of some legal or "work-related" trouble for him, or in the form of some other woman…but nothing like that had happened. Jennifer realized that the old anxiety was gone.

The relationship was far from uncomplicated, but Jennifer hadn't expected it to be simple. She was, after all, involved with a married man who was her former patient and the head of New Jersey's most prominent crime family to boot. But the point was that they were making it work. Sure, he was loud and sometimes crude, but Jennifer had known that since the first day she met him. And, of course, they led very different lives and sometimes ran out of things to say to one another, but the seas of silence that sometimes stretched between them were always tranquil. Jennifer could even bear Tony's sometimes-explosive anger.

Hell, she preferred the honesty of Tony's rage to the cold, calculated meanness of some of her intellectual friends, like Richard, who still couldn't leave her alone about his "favorite patient" of hers on the few brief occasions that they spoke. Like Elliot, who had finally stopped expecting her to come back to therapy, to trust him with treating her again despite the fact that he had never once apologized for how he had betrayed her.

Jennifer still boiled with anger at Elliot. Never in her life had she felt so exposed as when her own therapist had broken every code of professional ethics by announcing over dinner that she was treating New Jersey's famous mob boss. Colleagues still asked about her "work" with Tony, and she always replied, tight-lipped and slightly rudely, that she was no longer treating Soprano. Bending the truth, she knew, lying by omission, but the questions annoyed her. Though for years she had been unwilling to admit it, she and Tony had built up their own private world during those seven years of therapy. Other peoples' probing; Richard's, Elliot's, her colleagues', felt like an invasion.

Anyway, what was she supposed to say to them? "I'm not treating Soprano anymore, but last night he and I made love for hours and he was still in my bed when I left for work this morning." Much as she would have loved to see the look on Elliot's face, or, better yet, the look on Richard's, Jennifer wouldn't know how to come out with that even if she got the chance. She still feared the consequences, for both of them, if the wrong people were to find out.

"Hey," Tony said, his arms circling her waist to help her down from the counter, "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Nothing important," replied Jennifer.

"You sure about that? Looked like you were havin' some deep thoughts."

"Not really," she said.

"You look a little pissed off," Tony insisted, "Everything all right?"

Jennifer stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek.

"Everything's fine, Anthony. I'm just tired; I spaced out."

"You want some coffee or somethin'?" he asked. Jennifer nodded.

"Yeah. Go ahead and make some. I'm going to take a shower, and then after that I'll fix us some breakfast, ok?"

Tony nodded and turned around, walking out of the bathroom and heading for the kitchen. Jennifer watched him go and it hit her that they were developing a routine. Wake up, shave, shower, coffee, breakfast. Little rituals, only details, really, but the petty details were what defined peoples' lives. Was that what she and Tony were doing during the few days a week that they were able to spend with each other, she free from work and he able to get away from his wife? Defining their life, fusing their two separate existences into a series of little rituals?

Jennifer thought about this as she prepared the water for her shower, stepped into the stall and slid the door closed. Just as she began to feel a sliver of trepidation at all the possibilities, the scent of brewing coffee wafted to her from the kitchen, and she was tranquil again.


	3. Tooth & Nail

Jennifer struggled to remember how this had all started. She met Tony's angry eyes with a gaze equally as venomous. They had been fighting on and off for days, and at first she had met his anger with her typical calm, cool and even clinical style of rational argument. That had only inflamed him more, as he had accused her of treating him like he was still "just another goddamn patient." After that, the disagreement had progressed to petty name-calling, then to yelling, and finally he had knocked over one of her end tables, after which she had demanded that he get out of her house.

Now Jennifer was wedged between his body and her living room wall, cornered and trapped, yet as firm in her resolve as ever. She was frightened, of course; she knew what he was capable of, but she had also been in this position with him many times before, and she would not allow him to see that he scared her.

"Let go of me, Anthony," she commanded, pushing herself against him, attempting to lift his bulk from her, "Go home and call me when you're ready to be rational. Right now I have nothing more to say to you."

"Yeah?" he said, bringing his face so close to hers that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek, "Well I got plenty to say to you, and I ain't goin' nowhere."

Jennifer raised both of her arms to hit him, but when she struck his chest with her fists, Tony only laughed bitterly and grabbed both of her wrists, immobilizing her. She narrowed her eyes, swearing under her breath, and tried her best to wriggle out from beneath him, pressing her lower body against his in an attempt to dislodge him. Despite Jennifer's struggles, he was simply too big, too strong and solid, and after what seemed an eternity fighting to free herself, she found that her efforts yielded quite a different effect than she had intended.

The heat produced by the friction of her body against his was tantalizing, and Jennifer felt it stirring her to arousal. Silently, she cursed not only Tony but her own body for betraying her, turning her genuine wrath into sexual desire. Tony's breath on her face had become shallow, ragged, and she could feel his arousal pressed hard into her stomach. Jennifer brought her gaze up to him, the look in her eyes half frustration, half defeat.

His lips attacked hers, and the kiss was forceful, bruising; meant to hurt as much as to titillate. She kissed him back just as savagely, sinking her teeth into his tongue when it entered her mouth. He groaned in surprise and pulled back, but the look on his face was not of rage but of unmistakable arousal.

"This doesn't change anything," Jennifer rasped as Tony attacked the tender flesh of her neck with his teeth and tongue, "I'm still angry with you."

"Yeah, you be mad all you like," he growled against her skin, "As long as you still want me."

He didn't wait for her to reply. He pushed his hips into hers, trapping her lower body against the wall while his hand reached for the front of her blouse and ripped the fabric apart. Buttons flew and landed on the floor with a series of tiny clatters that Jennifer barely heard over the hammering of her heart and the thick, heavy cadence of her breath. She had never thought that she would be one to be aroused by such brutishness, but she felt her panties flood with moisture as Tony tore her bra away, exposing her breasts to the frenzied kneading of his fingers.

Jennifer sighed when he ducked his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking roughly at her flesh. She bit her lower lip and twined her fingers in his thinning hair, tugging harshly out of a still-lingering desire to make him remember that she had not yet forgiven him. He retaliated by sinking his teeth into her breast, and the pain was both intense and delicious, making her cry out his name. Tony then switched to her other breast, giving that nipple the same treatment before returning to her mouth for another searing kiss.

She shivered as he slid his hands down her sides, over her hips and then her bottom. He reached into the waistband of her jeans, past her panties, cupping and squeezing her flesh, filling each of his palms with Jennifer's ass. She gasped when he felt him lifting her, and wrapped her arms and legs around him as he walked, carrying her down the hallway and through the open door of her bedroom. The mattress bounced beneath her when he deposited her roughly onto the bed, then crawled on top of her, removing his shirt as he did so. Jennifer grabbed at the button of his pants, undoing it and then yanking down the zipper so that he could kick them off, along with his boxers. His hands were impatient on her jeans, and he cursed as he worked at the zipper.

"Take this shit off," he commanded, yanking the pants down her hips in his desperation to feel her bare skin. With a fire blazing in her center and her every nerve pulsing, Jennifer shimmied out of her jeans and then pulled Tony to her. He wasted no time in entering her and establishing a feverish, frenzied rhythm so intense that the slamming of the headboard against the wall drowned out even Jennifer's cries of pleasure and Tony's grunts as they moved against each other.

There was nothing gentle or loving about what they were doing. This, Jennifer knew, was pure, unadulterated fucking, and she loved every minute of it, loved the hardness of him thrusting roughly into her and then retreating, his groans as he ravaged her, the sweat that dripped from his body and fell onto her. She met each of Tony's thrusts with her own brute force. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his back when his mouth came to rest on her shoulder and he sunk his teeth in. He bit and sucked so hard that Jennifer yelped with the pain, wondering if he had drawn blood. She knew that her nails were wounding him as she raked them up and down his back.

Tired of ceding all control of their passion over to him, Jennifer threw a leg around his waist and pressed her palms against his chest, flipping them so that she was on top, dominating him. She pulled her hips away until just the tip of him was left inside of her, and then slammed her body down, impaling herself hard on his length and making him cry out her name. After a few more thrusts, Tony grew impatient with this slow but intense rhythm, dug his fingers into her hips and drew her pelvis down, making her take all of him, grinding into her so that their thrusts were shallow and swift.

"Tell me that you love me, Jen," he demanded when she looked down at him, her eyes darkened with pleasure and passion, "I love you so much. Tell me you fucking love me."

"You know I do," she replied, leaning down to kiss him, moaning against his lips as she felt her orgasm beginning to rock her. She clung to him as she came, reveling in his moans and the warmth when he spilled in her. Spent, she let herself fall on top of him. She made no move to disengage his body from hers. She felt him going soft inside of her, but was too weakened from the intensity of their act to expend any more effort. He put his hand underneath her chin, raising her face and seeing all anger gone from her eyes, replaced by the softness of post-coital bliss.

"Friends again, Doc?" he asked. She smiled and delivered a fleeting kiss to his mouth before burying her face in his neck. He ran his hands over her sweat-slicked skin, giving her all of the little kisses and caresses that had become customary for them after making love. She hissed in pain when his fingers traced over a tender spot on her shoulder.

"Goddamn," Tony said, examining the area, "I bruised you pretty bad."

Jennifer shrugged. "I'll live. How's your back?"

"Fucking burns," he admitted, "All that and I can't even remember what the hell we were fighting about to start with. Do you?"

"No," she replied, rolling off of him and then settling back into his embrace, "It doesn't matter now." Jennifer didn't want to remember, didn't want to bring it back up again. She had had her fill of conflict, and now she only wanted everything to remain peaceful.


	4. Vindication

**Author's Note:**** Sensitive subject matter. This chapter deals with Melfi's rape. I tried to be as sensitive as possible, and to make it as realistic as I could as someone who's never personally been through such a traumatic experience.**

Lately, a good night for Jennifer Melfi was one during which she did not dream. The nightmares had started earlier in the week, Monday night after she had come home from work and passed out, exhausted, on her sofa still wearing her suit. Hours later, she had been woken up by her own screams, covered in a cold sweat and thinking of someone that she had no desire whatsoever to remember.

It had been almost six years since she had been attacked in the parking garage at work, yet she still bore the scars, physically and emotionally. With each spring and autumn, the changing of the weather caused the joints in her knee to ache to the point where it hurt to walk, and the pain forced her to recall the incident that had caused the damage.

More devastatingly, though, Jennifer didn't ever feel truly safe. When she was home alone, she sometimes still jumped at even the slightest of noises. In her office, she sprang up from her desk to lock the door if she was working after hours and heard footsteps in the corridor. Despite all of that, though, Jennifer had done a remarkable job of carrying on with her life after the rape; even Elliot had confessed to being impressed with the strength of her will. Her resolve, though, did not erase the memories that lurked just beneath the surface of her subconscious, crippling emotions locked up in a box in the back of her mind, just waiting to be freed.

That box had been opened Monday morning, when she had arrived at her office at the same time as one of her "neighbors," another psychiatrist who had his private practice in the suite next to hers. Though they saw each other rarely, both had greeted one another and made small talk prior to opening up their offices for the day. Just as Jennifer was ending the conversation in anticipation of the arrival of her first patient, her colleague had given her the bit of news that had sent her reeling for the rest of the week.

"Oh, hey, Jennifer," he had said, "I know you work late sometimes, so I just thought you should know. You should call security and have someone escort you to your car if you're going to be working after hours."

A cold, prickling sensation rose in Jennifer's stomach, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she asked, "Oh, why? What happened?"

"Well, they're saying that a woman was…sexually assaulted…in the parking garage. She was a patient; I don't know whose, but she was walking to her car from an appointment when it happened. The police were all over the building the other night, but from what I hear, they never caught the guy."

Just then, Jennifer's first patient of the day had arrived, so she had been forced to quickly pull herself together, but she knew that she had been silent and distant throughout the appointment, her mind going astray down all sorts of horrible, terrifying paths. Alone in her office between sessions, with the door firmly locked, Jennifer had gone through everything in her mind, allowing herself to remember the assault in full for the first time in six years.

She had tried to comfort herself by rationalization: It had been years since her own rape, and the attack had been random; if she had been in the stairwell just five minutes earlier or later she never would have crossed paths with the man who had brutalized her. Anyway, what were the odds that, six years later, Jesus Rossi would still be hanging around the same building? Despite all of the logic behind her reasoning, Jennifer was not reassured. What had he been doing there, anyway, six years ago? Even if Rossi wasn't stalking the parking garage of her building, another woman had been assaulted and the perpetrator not apprehended, so obviously the danger was still there.

The fears and painful memories had haunted not only Jennifer's waking hours for the past week, but had begun to permeate her dreams. It was now Friday, and she had slept a grand total of perhaps ten hours throughout the last four nights. The lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll not only mentally, but physically. She and Tony had not seen each other in almost a week, and Jennifer knew that he had noticed the change in her when they met for dinner earlier in the evening. His eyes had registered concern upon seeing her, and he had asked if she'd been sick.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Jen, but you don't look so good," he said. She brushed it off, muttered excuses about stress at work, demanding patients, lack of sleep, but she had been distant and jumpy throughout dinner, and she knew that none of that escaped Tony's observation. When they had arrived at her house, he pulled her close and asked if there was anything she wanted to talk about. She'd been touched, but not ready to discuss what was truly bothering her.

"I'm just exhausted, Anthony," she said instead, "I need sleep. Are you going to stay with me tonight?" He had agreed to stay, and they went to bed. It was rare for them not to make love when he spent the night, but Jennifer knew that she couldn't have handled sex just then. She had stayed awake pondering this long after Tony began to snore, and felt a fresh surge of anger that, all these years after the actual rape, it was still interfering with her life in such extreme ways. Frustrated, she had fallen into a fitful sleep and dreamt of Jesus Rossi.

She screamed as she felt his hands on her, tugging at her clothes, reaching under her skirt and tearing away her panties. The concrete stairs dug into her shoulders as she was pressed down by the weight of his body. Jennifer reached up to fight him, but her attempts at defense were weak, and the more she fought, the harder he pounded into her, wounding her, breaking her bodily and spiritually.

Jennifer woke to the sounds of her own desperate cries and a hand on her forearm. She was lucid enough to feel the softness of her own sheets, but still locked in the dream world where Jesus Rossi tormented her. A voice, familiar but too far away to help, said her name, and arms enfolded her.

"No!" she wailed, the idea entering into her mind that Rossi was in her bed, that he had found her where she lived and entered her home so that he could hurt her again. She lashed out, hearing a sharp crack as her palm connected with her assailant's face. Jennifer scrambled away, falling out of bed and landing roughly on the cold floor. She was beginning to regain consciousness when she heard that same familiar voice from earlier yelling expletives.

"Goddamn it! Son of a bitch!"

Jennifer heard someone sobbing, small, pitiful muted wails, and didn't realize that the noises came from her until she felt tears spilling down her cheeks.

"What the fuck, Jen?" Tony stepped into her line of vision. "What'd ya hit me for?"

The blaze of his anger extinguished itself when he saw her curled up against her nightstand in the fetal position, sobbing and shivering.

"Jennifer…baby, what's the matter?" He reached out to her, but she shrunk from his hand.

"Don't. I don't want to be touched." Jennifer wanted her own little personal bubble to herself. She wrapped her arms around her own body and sucked air in through her nose, concentrating on the breathing exercises that she taught to her patients but had never thought that she would have to use herself.

Tony knelt on the floor several feet away from her. "What's wrong? I woke up 'cause I heard you screamin' and cryin' in your sleep, so I tried to get you up and you slapped the shit outta me."

"I had a dream," she explained.

"What kinda dream?" he asked.

"A bad one."

"Well, obviously, but what was it about?"

Jennifer looked up at him, turning over and over in her mind the question of whether she should tell him or not. So many times in the past she had wanted to, if only because she knew what would happen if she did, the action he would take if he found out what had been done to her and by whom. This, Tony's ability to "fix" the situation for her, to erase, if not the memories of what Jesus Rossi had done, then the man himself, had been the same reason she had not told him. Now, as Jennifer looked into Tony's eyes, the eyes of the man she loved, she wanted him to be aware of what had happened to her, not so that he could avenge her, but because she knew that after she finished her confession, he would take her in his arms and she would be safe.

She stretched her hand out to him and he took it. As she curled her fingers through his, she began to tell him everything, every last detail, squeezing his hand and speaking through tears whenever her story became too painful.

"Goddamn, Jen," he said when she finished, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Why would I have?" she asked, "You were just my patient back then."

Tony seemed to accept that but did not let the issue go. "Yeah, but I coulda done something. The cops fucked up and failed you; I wouldn't have."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. It wasn't your job to avenge me."

"Yeah, well it damn well is now. You're mine, Jen, mine to protect, and when I find that piece of shit..."

"Anthony, no!" Jennifer cried.

"Why not?" he asked, "He hurt you; he deserves to fucking rot. He deserves to die."

"Anthony," she said, her voice severe and her eyes panicked, "Don't do anything. I didn't confide in you so that you could...could...I don't want..." Her voice broke and more tears came, and he shushed her and pulled her close, picking her up off of the floor and straightening the covers as she climbed back into bed. He slid in beside her and held her, stroking her hair and whispering to her reassuringly until she, exhausted and overcome with emotion, fell into a deep sleep.

He lie awake long after she closed her eyes, watching Jennifer as she slept and boiling with rage. The woman that he loved had been wounded, violated in the worst way and then left to suffer alone, silently. As Jennifer sighed and rolled over in her sleep, Tony vowed to make sure that the guilty party paid for the crime that had been committed against her, to see to it that she was vindicated.

**One Week Later...**

Jennifer looked at the clock on the mantle of her fireplace and wondered where in the hell Tony was. It had been hours since he had left, mumbling something about having business to take care of. She hadn't asked, because she hadn't wanted to know, but now, as she began to feel his absence more acutely than ever, Jennifer thought that maybe she should have.

Tony had been almost constantly by her side in the week since she had confided in him. He conducted his business during the day, and met her at her office in the evenings to walk her to her car, then he followed her home and stayed the night with her. In the last week, Jennifer had grown used to his presence, and even when the constant togetherness began to annoy her, she knew that he was staying close to make her feel safe, and was grateful to him for it.

A knot of fear began to grow in Jennifer's stomach. It had been ten o'clock when he left; now it was twenty minutes after one and there was still no sign of him. What if something had happened to him, and the next time she saw him was when he was lying in a box, cold and dead? Jennifer sat with these thoughts for half an hour more until finally, the doorbell frightened her out of her reverie. Her heart hammering in her chest, she went to the front door and looked out of the peephole.

"Anthony," she said, opening the door and wanting to yell, to tell him how scared she had been, how she had just been sitting alone waiting for him, that the dinner she had made had gotten cold hours ago and why in the hell hadn't he called. All of that was silenced when he took her in his arms, crushing her to him and kissing her forehead. With a sigh, Jennifer melted into him, unable to stay angry when he was holding her so tightly, when he was whispering her name as he kissed her cheek and when he smelled so good, like soap, like cologne and laundry detergent, fresh and clean.

"Where have you been?" she asked, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He didn't reply, simply stood with her in the doorway, holding her as if trying to reassure himself that she was real. Early autumn's night breeze blew in through the open door, raising goosebumps on Jennifer's skin.

"Never mind where I've been," he said, finally letting go of her, closing the door and leading her over to the sofa. She leaned against him when they sat, craving the comfort of him close to her.

"You remember the first night we were together," he asked, "When I told you I'd keep you safe?"

Jennifer looked up at him, expecting him to say more. When he didn't follow the statement up, she knit her brows together in puzzlement and said, "Yes, I remember."

"Just wanted you to know I meant that," he said, taking one of her hands in both of his and looking meaningfully into her eyes, "You're safe now, Jen. No one is ever going to hurt you again."

As the implications of his words sunk in, Tony watched the expression on her face go from shock, to fear, to relief and then to gratitude. The grim satisfaction that Jennifer felt scared even her, and she shivered as she realized what Tony had done. She knew that he had done it for her, because he had seen how she suffered with the memories and the anxiety and had wanted to relieve her of all that.

"God, Anthony," Jennifer whispered, winding her arms around him and shutting her eyes tightly to dam back the tears that threatened. He pulled her onto his lap, stroking her back and placing a kiss on the top of her head. After what seemed like an eternity of simply letting Tony hold her, Jennifer raised her mouth to his and claimed his lips, pouring all of her emotions into the kiss, because she knew, as she sat safe and secure in Tony Soprano's embrace, that she had never loved him more.


	5. Cunnilingus and Psychiatry

"No, Anthony, absolutely not," Jennifer said firmly, turning away from him and focusing on the pot of boiling spaghetti noodles in front of her. Unwilling to give up, Tony wrapped one of his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her into him. Though she made a small sound of mock protest, Jennifer leaned back against him and reveled in the feel of his hand as it moved down the front of her, over her breasts and on to her stomach.

"Why not? It'd be fun," he coaxed. His fingers crept along the bottom of her sweater, lifting the fabric and stroking the bare skin of her abdomen. Jennifer pretended not to notice, ignoring the arousal that Tony's caresses ignited and reaching for a spoon to stir the pasta.

"I refuse to have sex in my office," she said, "It's my professional space; it's where I see my patients."

"Oh, c'mon, it's not like your patients are gonna know!" Tony spun her around to face him and looked into her eyes, "You know how many times I fantasized about this? Bending you over your desk, pushing you up against the bookcase and fucking your brains out?"

At the bluntness of his words and the images they conjured, excitement shot through Jennifer like a lightening bolt.

"You're really hung up on this, aren't you?" she asked. He nodded. "And you're not going to leave me alone about it until I give in."

"Nope," said Tony.

"Fine," Jennifer agreed, "But you have to do something for me in return."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Jennifer stood on the tips of her toes and brushed his lips with hers.

"I want your mouth," she whispered, then kissed him, softly and fleetingly.

"My mouth, huh? Where do you want it?" The look in Tony's eyes was knowing and mischievous.

"You know where."

"No, I don't," Tony feigned ignorance, "You have to tell me."

Jennifer pursed her lips, her desire throbbing within her but the words freezing in her throat when she tried to vocalize what she wanted from him. She never had been good at talking dirty; it only embarrassed her. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand against the front of her pants, just at the junction between her thighs. The corners of Tony's mouth curled up in an amused grin.

"You want my mouth on your pussy?" he asked, rubbing her hard through her clothing.

"God, yes," she sighed, her hips rising up to meet his hand.

"When can I come to your office?" Tony inquired, sliding his fingers into the waistband of her pants.

"Thursday night," Jennifer rasped as he touched her, "I have a group session at six. That should only last about an hour. Come around seven."

**Thursday**

Annoyed, Tony sat on the sofa in Jennifer's waiting room. He watched the minute hand on the clock slide over to mark the time as ten after seven. He heard voices from inside of the office, and wanted to barge through the door and break up the damn group session. Another five minutes went by before Tony heard the sound of a doorknob turning and a middle-aged woman walked into the waiting room, followed closely by a younger man and then quite a few other people. One or two of them nodded courteously to him, but most headed straight for the door, eager to leave.

Tony looked up to the doorway and saw Jennifer standing there. She watched the last of her patients leave, and when everyone was finally gone, turned to Tony with a smile.

"Come on in," she said. Tony was stricken with a sense of déjà vu. He was swept back to an earlier time, and suddenly the Jennifer Melfi of nine years ago was standing in the doorway uttering those same words, inviting him into her office without knowing that they were beginning a complicated professional relationship that would last for almost a decade and leave its mark on both of them. Excitement surged through him as he followed her through the door, into the office where the attraction between them had played out for years before she had given in to him. Jennifer pulled a ring of keys from one of her pockets and locked the door behind them, giving it a little tug to make sure that it was securely bolted. When she was satisfied that they would not be interrupted, she turned back to him and noticed that he was looking around the room, bemused.

"Nothing's changed," he said. It had been months since the last time he had been there, but everything was just as he remembered it from when he had been her patient, from the arrangement of the chairs and coffee table to the bronze figures that rested on the ledges of the windows.

"I have patients who don't respond well to change," she explained, "I try to keep things in here consistent."

"I'm glad you kept everything the same," Tony said, approaching her and taking her in his arms.

"I've been thinking about this all day," Jennifer admitted when he leaned his forehead against hers, "I'm sorry the session went overtime. I had to force myself to sit still through the whole thing, and I thought about nothing but you the entire time."

He kissed her then, framing her face with his hands and holding her head in place while his mouth ravaged hers. Their tongues rose up to meet one another, dancing at a frenzied, excited pace. One of her legs wrapped around his waist, pressing him into her as her hands caressed his back and pulled his shirt loose from his pants. He ground his pelvis into her and darted his tongue wildly in and out of her mouth, mimicking the motion of his hips. Jennifer gasped at the sensation of his erection pressed firmly against the front of her skirt, and her hips rose to meet his as he fucked her through their clothes.

"God, yes, Anthony," she moaned against his mouth, "I want you so badly."

"What do you want me to do to you?" he asked, pushing her hair aside and then moving his mouth to her ear, suckling on the delicate lobe.

"I…" she muttered, "I want…oh god…"

He unbuttoned her blazer and pushed it off of her shoulders, then untucked her blouse from her skirt, pulling it over her head until she stood in nothing but her skirt, shoes, and bra.

"Talk to me, Jen," Tony said, sucking at the sensitive flesh of her neck, "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to lick my cunt," she cried out as his mouth drove her to raptures and his fingers played over her skin, "I want you on me, in me, I want you to fuck me hard!"

With a growl, Tony lifted her and carried her over to her desk, knocking files, pens and papers to the floor before setting her down. He licked and sucked at her neck and chest while his hands pushed her skirt up, bunching it around her hips. Her stockings split and tore as he pulled them hastily down her legs along with her panties, and then she was exposed to him, dripping and pulsing with desire as he knelt down in front of her, running his hands up and down her legs.

She cried out when his tongue touched her, licking gently up her slit before finding the hyper-sensitive little bundle of nerves at her center and attacking it. Her hips bucked wantonly against his face as he made his way back downwards, inserting his tongue into her, immersing himself in her rich, salty-sweet taste. His hands rested on her thighs, and he felt her muscles tensing in anticipation of climax, but he didn't want to her to finish so soon, so he moved his mouth away from her, instead focusing his attention on stroking and kissing her thighs. Jennifer groaned in protest and reached down to tangle her fingers in his hair, attempting to guide his head back to where she wanted him the most.

"Make me come, Anthony, please," she begged. He obliged, putting his mouth over her clit and sucking fiercely, then burying two fingers in her, tilting them upwards and finding the spot that made her scream in pleasure. Jennifer's thighs locked around his head, holding him in place so that he couldn't pull away again. Tony felt himself struggling for air, but thought that if he had to smother to death, then what better way to go than in between Jennifer's legs with his face buried in her? She trembled and yelled out his name when she climaxed, and her thighs parted and released him as her muscles went fluid with the languor of post-orgasmic bliss.

Tony returned to her mouth and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue. She was satisfied but not sated, and she rested her head on his shoulder when the kiss ended, her chest rising and falling in an attempt to catch her breath.

"You liked that?" he asked. Jennifer nodded.

"It was wonderful," she said, running her hands along his sides and pulling at the bottom of his shirt, lifting it upwards and removing it from his body. He worked at his belt and pants, and before long he stood before her, naked and wild to mate. He nudged at her shoulder, pushing her down until her bare back rested against the cold wood of the desk. Jennifer shivered and felt her nipples peak beneath the material of her bra, but then Tony was on top of her, solid and warm, covering her.

She crossed her legs behind his back as he entered her, his rhythm slow and sensual to begin with. His kisses on her mouth and cheeks were gentle and his hands blazed trails of fire down her calves. He grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs and pulling away from her to drape them over his shoulders. He turned his head and kissed one of her ankles, then stared down at her, eyes blazing with desire as he sped up his thrusts into and out of her. The new angle allowed him to penetrate deeply, touching her in places that no one else ever had before, spots of pleasure she hadn't even known she possessed.

Tony ran his hands up and down Jennifer's calves as he buried himself in her over and over again. With satisfaction, he noted the way she threw her head back and moaned as the dark tendrils of pleasure spread throughout her body. Jennifer was overcome by sensation; for her, the entire universe seemed to have been reduced to where their two bodies were joined, and she was helpless to do anything but rhythmically push her pelvis back against his, taking him into her up to the hilt. For his part, he knew that he couldn't last long when he was buried so deep inside of her, when she was writhing beneath him and clenching her inner muscles around him. He told her as much and she nodded, lifting her hands to stroke his chest and telling him to come in her, a request which he happily obliged, calling her name as he did so.

Jennifer welcomed the weight of his body when he collapsed, spent, onto her. They kissed languidly, without urgency, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding onto him as she always did after sex, when they were both sated and could feel their love for one another more strongly than ever.

"You happy we did this?" Tony asked, lazily stroking her stomach.

"Yeah," replied Jennifer, "Except…"

"Except what?" he demanded.

"Well," she said, "You mentioned something about bending me over this desk and then fucking my brains out against the bookcase…"


	6. The Other Woman

Jennifer nervously swallowed a mouthful of her latte and then set the paper cup down onto the table, looking across at her companion as she did. Carmela Soprano's eyes were on her, deep blue and vulnerable despite the strong front that she tried to show to her rival. Jennifer turned and gazed out of the window, not knowing what to say and not really wanting to be out in public having coffee with her lover's wife as though there were nothing odd about their situation at all, as though they were old friends rather than two women who both shared a bed with the same man.

Carmela was equally anxious, and unwilling to be the one to break the silence between them. Jennifer watched as the other woman tapped her unnaturally long acrylic nails against the granite of the table top. She looked away again, pretending to examine her own fingernails, natural and well-manicured, and nowhere near as long as Carmela's. _So many differences between us_, Jennifer thought, comparing her conservative black suit and low-heeled pumps with the rose-colored dress and silver sandals worn by her companion. Despite the judgment that she passed on Carmela's ridiculously huge nails and tacky sartorial choices, Jennifer had to admit that the blonde woman was quite attractive, with the clash between her soft, fair coloring and dramatic facial features.

Carmela noticed Jennifer's eyes on her and took the leap, finally shattering the silence with the question that had plagued her ever since she had wrung the confession out of Tony.

"How long?" she asked, "How long have you been screwing my husband?"

Jennifer's cheeks went slightly pink with the rawness of Carmela's words, along with a prickle of anger at the implication that simply "screwing" was all that existed between her and Anthony. Still, she steeled herself up and answered honestly: "About a year." Carmela sat back and seemed to process that.

"So not until after he quit therapy," she said.

"He never quit therapy," Jennifer corrected, "I dropped him as a patient two months before we started…seeing each other socially."

"He told me he quit," Carmela said, "I guess I should have known that he was lying. He can't even tell the truth about simple things. I should never be so stupid to believe anything that comes out of that man's mouth. Neither should you."

Jennifer nodded slightly, neither in agreement nor in dissension. She did not offer up a reply, and the conversation came to a screeching halt once again. Both women simply sat and stared each other down between sips of gourmet coffee. After a few moments of this, Carmela spoke once again.

"In any of your little therapy sessions, did he ever tell you about all the other women he's had?"

"Yes; we occasionally discussed his affairs," answered Jennifer.

"Well, you should know that you're just the same as all of them. You might not be a whore or a slut, you may be a sophisticated, professional woman, but you're no different from the other ones he's fucked. Despite what he says to you or what he does, you mean just as little to him as all of them. He'll get bored with you soon, and when he does he'll come right back to me, or he'll go out and find somebody else to bang behind _both_ of our backs."

"Do you really believe that, Carmela?" Jennifer asked evenly, refusing to react, refusing to cry or get angry despite the sting of Carmela's little speech. She knew that it was exactly the response Carmela was seeking, and would not rise to her baiting.

"There's nothing to believe or disbelieve," Carmela said, "It's just a fact."

Still cool and calm, Jennifer sipped from her cup and looked the other woman in the eyes.

"So I'm not a threat to you at all," she said, "Nothing to worry about. That's why you're here now."

Carmela's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The other whores and sluts that Anthony's fucked behind your back," Jennifer elaborated, shocking Carmela by speaking so bluntly, "I'm sure that you've had coffee with all of them as well, and confronted them just like you're now doing to me."

Carmela's lips trembled as she unraveled the meaning behind those words, and when a tear slid down her cheek, Jennifer instantly felt terrible for having said them.

"Oh, Jesus, Carmela; I'm sorry," she said, reaching into her purse for a packet of tissue and sliding it across the table. Carmela shook her head, pulled a tissue from the packet and held it up to her eyes.

"No, no," she said, attempting to reign in her emotions, "You're right. I do feel threatened by you. I'm…I'm afraid…"

"Afraid of what?" Jennifer asked, unconsciously adopting the same caring but disconnected manner she used with her patients.

"I'm afraid that he loves you more," admitted Carmela, "That after all these years and all that I've been through with him, Tony's finally found someone else and he's going to leave me." She looked over to Jennifer, not knowing why she was confessing all of this, especially to the very woman who was the source of these insecurities.

Jennifer shook her head. "He's never going to leave you. I had to accept that fact from the beginning. Despite everything, Anthony's really a traditional man, and he does love and care for you. Your marriage will only come to an end if you're the one to leave him."

"Is that what you're trying to tell me to do?" Carmela asked.

"No. I won't give you any advice on that subject. If I tell you to leave him, then I'm just the evil, selfish home wrecker. I refuse to allow myself to be cast in that light."

"That's smart," Carmela conceded, "You're such a smart woman. That's why Tony loves you so much."

"You're not unintelligent yourself, Carmela."

"No, but it's different, just like everything else about us. You're…you're perceptive. You can read people; it's like you have some kind of psychic powers."

For the first time since she had arrived at the coffee shop, Jennifer cracked a smile. "No magical powers. Just years of training and practice."

"You _know_ him."

"I like to think I do, yes."

"No, you do. You know who he is, what he does, what he thinks about and what motivates him. I can't say any of that; I never could, and that's why I always resented you, even before this. Over twenty years of marriage and I have no idea who Tony really is. You figured him out in just a few years of therapy."

There was nothing that Jennifer could think of to say to that, so she remained quiet and finished her latte.

"He respects you," Carmela went on, "Like he never respected me. That's why he ran around on me, because he didn't care and he knew he could get away with it. You wouldn't stand for it, would you? If you found out he was screwing someone else on the side, you'd kick him to the curb, because you don't need him like I need him. He'll be good to you because he knows that. You're stronger than me, better than me."

Carmela's tears were falling freely now, and she ignored them, scrunching and twisting the tissue between both of her hands. Uncomfortable, Jennifer looked to the clock, and panicked slightly when she noticed the time. She reached across the table to put her hand reassuringly on Carmela's forearm.

"Look, my lunch hour is over. I'm very sorry, but if I don't head back to the office now, I'm going to be late, and I can't do that to my patient."

"It's okay," Carmela said through her tears, "I understand; you have to go."

Jennifer sighed, feeling bad for Carmela, for what she was doing to her, for what had already been done to her long before Jennifer had arrived on the scene.

"If you want to continue this, my last appointment is at five tonight. You could come to my office…"

"No," replied Carmela, "Thanks, but no. I'll be all right."

She stood when Jennifer did, and unexpectedly leaned over to embrace her. Carmela wanted to hate Jennifer, had come to the coffee shop looking for a reason to, wanting to cast her in the light of the evil, callous mistress bound and determined to steal her husband away. Instead, she had found sympathy in the other woman, understanding and compassion. Strangely, rather than the desire to beat or kill Jennifer, Carmela found that she wanted to talk to her again, but knew that she wasn't quite ready for another conversation like the one that had just taken place.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Carmela said when she pulled away, her voice sincere and her eyes still sparkling with tears, "You've…given me a lot to think about, to say the least."

Jennifer did not speak, simply nodded, grabbed her purse, and exited the coffee shop, leaving Carmela alone with her thoughts.


	7. 20 Questions

"You actually watching this?" Tony inquired, sliding onto the sofa beside Jennifer and glancing at the television, which was playing an old re-run of _I Love Lucy_.

"No, not really," replied Jennifer, never taking her eyes away from the file spread out in front of her. Tony switched the station over to the History Channel, which was showing a special about WWII. Ancient history was more interesting to him than the recent past, so he switched the TV off entirely and turned to Jennifer, who was furiously jotting down notes.

"You brought your work home tonight?" he asked, "You spend ten hours a day holed up in your office with nothin' but work; that ain't enough for ya?"

"It's for a patient," Jennifer explained, "She's starting behavioral therapy; the other doctor needs a full report on her condition."

Tony grabbed Jennifer's hand, stopping her pen mid-sentence and pulling it from her grasp.

"Anthony, give that back to me," she demanded.

"No. You been looking at nothing but that file for a whole hour. When you gonna give it a rest?"

She pursed her lips in annoyance. "I'm serious, Anthony."

"That's your problem," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him, "You're too serious. You work too hard."

Jennifer opened her mouth to protest, but then his hands were on her shoulders, kneading and pressing. Despite herself, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Her muscles were all kinds of tense, and Tony's firm touch helped. She shivered when he pushed her hair aside and her skin was exposed to the cool air, but then his breath was warm on her flesh. His fingers brushed lightly against the back of her neck, and Jennifer let out a high-pitched giggle and pulled away.

"What?" Tony asked, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she said, "Nothing at all. Don't stop what you were doing."

He returned his mouth to her neck, running his tongue along her flesh, lapping up Jennifer's sweet taste and immersing himself in her delicate, lightly floral scent. His hands continued to knead her muscles. Again he caressed her, and again she giggled, flinching away from him.

"Jen, what the—" he began, and then his mind put two and two together, "You're ticklish, aren't you?"

"No," she said, pulling away and turning to him, "No, not at all."

A wicked smile curled Tony's mouth, and his eyes flashed with mischief.

"Yes you are," he said, pouncing on her and fastening his hands on the back of her neck, tickling mercilessly.

"No! Anthony!" squealed Jennifer, writhing beneath him and attempting to shake him from her, all the while laughing hysterically and uncontrollably. Tony chuckled, too, enjoying the sound of her laughter and the feel of her body as she squirmed against him.

"Stop it!" she begged, giggling through the tears of mirth that were now making paths down her cheeks. Tony eased up on her, sitting back against the sofa's cushions and bringing her with him, lifting her body until she straddled his lap.

"You're terrible," she said, looking down at him and not meaning it even a bit.

He brushed the tears from her cheek and smiled. "Yeah, you love it."

She sighed as she settled against him, enjoying the feel of his solid form beneath her, the sheer hugeness of him, the warmth of his skin, the way that his chest rose and fell as he breathed in and out.

"That's the first time I see you laugh in a while," he said after a moment of comfortable silence.

"You make me laugh all the time," she replied.

"Yeah, but not lately. You been…I don't know, like you're not happy."

Jennifer furrowed her brow and looked into his eyes, noting the uncertainty and worry in them and feeling terrible for having put it there.

"Oh, Anthony…I've been under a lot of pressure at work lately. A lot of patients, the same problems, week after week, and sometimes it feels like I can only do so much for them. And I've been more tired than usual these last few weeks; I don't know why. I'm sorry if I've been distant. I didn't mean to be."

She placed a fleeting kiss upon his lips.

"I love you, and I still want you so much. All the feelings that I have for you…they never go away."

"Same for me," he replied, running his hands up Jennifer's sides, beneath her t-shirt and over her breasts, which were unrestrained by a bra, "I never get tired of being with you, touching you."

Their lips met with fury, tongues crashing against one another's like waves in an angry storm. He pulled her pelvis forward, pressing her crotch against his and letting her feel how hard he was for her. Jennifer gasped for breath when his mouth released hers, but her breath caught in her throat again when his lips descended upon her chest, kissing her breast and finding her pebbled nipple. He licked, sucked and bit at it through the fabric of her shirt while his hands slid into her sweatpants, and caressed her buttocks.

She arched against him, pressing her breasts harder into his face and moaning. _I have been distant_, Jennifer thought. She realized that it had been weeks since she and Anthony had slept together; too long, for the feelings that he was arousing felt almost foreign, like everything was new to her all over again.

Tony pushed her sweatpants and underwear down as far as they would go, and Jennifer shifted her weight until the clothing fell to the floor, then reached for the zipper of his pants, yanking it downwards and pushing aside his boxers until his manhood sprang free, rigid and eager for her. Without hesitation, she impaled herself upon him, both of them crying out in unison as she began to thrust, taking him in deeply and then letting him escape her almost completely before bringing her hips back down.

"Shit!" he cried out, "Goddamn, I missed this."

Jennifer said nothing, concentrating only on the sensation of him hard and pulsing inside of her, familiar yet thrilling. She slid her hands beneath the fabric of his white wife-beater and stroked him, her fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair on his chest. Tony tugged her shirt over her head, throwing it and paying no heed as it landed somewhere across the room. His mouth latched onto one of her breasts, suckling fiercely and adding another dimension to Jennifer's pleasure. Overwhelmed by sensation, she trembled as she came, pressing her palm against Tony's head and holding him to her chest.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered, letting go of him and falling against his chest. Her climax had been intense, and her muscles felt like jelly. She shifted slightly and noticed that he had not gone soft; Tony's cock was still rock-solid inside of her. Jennifer raised her head questioningly.

"You didn't…?"

"Nah. I have an idea, though. Get off me and go bend over the back of the sofa."

She did as he requested, and was soon rewarded with his hands skimming over the bare flesh of her back, then his lips pressed between her shoulder blades. He incited her to shivers as he kissed his way down her spine, stopping just at her tailbone and then licking his way back up. Jennifer cried out as he entered her from behind, leaning hard against her so that his skin was hot on hers.

"Oh…" she cried, tightening around him, "Oh, Anthony."

"Mmhmm, you love this, don't you?" he asked, his breath tantalizing on her ear.

"Yes, oh god, yes."

Jennifer moaned with each of his thrusts. She raised her head, and when she looked up, she caught their reflection in the decorative mirror across the room. She saw as well as felt Tony's hands slide to the front of her to cup her breasts while he sped up his pace. Jennifer was fascinated by her own reflection, her cheeks flushed with excitement, her hair tousled around her face where Tony had run his fingers through it, the glimmer of lust in her eyes. Tony happened to glance over at the mirror as well, and noticed that Jennifer was fixated upon the reflectin of their passion. Their eyes locked in the mirror, and he held her gaze as he pushed her to the edge, only to follow her over the precipice just seconds later, thrusting into her so hard that he lifted her off of her feet and almost sent her flying over the sofa's arm. They collapsed to the floor together, and Tony rolled onto his back while Jennifer pulled a few throw pillows and a blanket from the couch, spreading the pillows and then covering them both so that they weren't just lying on the rug in the middle of the living room.

"Damn," she said, staring up at the ceiling and attempting to catch her breath, "How the hell did I survive more than two weeks without that?"

Tony shrugged. "Beats me. I was goin' crazy."

Jennifer turned over, smiling almost teasingly. "Is that the longest you've ever gone without sex?" she asked.

"Nah; I went fifteen years without it once."

Jennifer frowned and looked blankly at him until she comprehended the joke. She chuckled and shook her head. "I mean since you've been sexually active, Anthony."

"Yeah, I know what you meant. And to answer your question, yeah, it is. We can't all be saints like you and go for—how long was it, before you and me got together?"

"Five years."

"Five years. How the hell did you survive _that_?"

"I touched myself a lot." Jennifer blushed and looked away, "Usually while thinking about you."

"No shit?" he asked.

"Why are you surprised? I've always found you attractive, Anthony, even before I knew that I loved you."

"And when was that?" He scooted closer to her on the floor so that she could settle into his embrace. "When did you know?"

Jennifer laid her cheek against his shoulder, biting her lip and thinking. "The time that I broke down in one of our sessions and you held my hand. It was right after…well, you know. The point is that you didn't even know what was wrong, but you tried to comfort me. You showed more genuine concern and sympathy for me than anyone else had, and I knew that I mattered to you. I loved you for that, and I realized that I had for some time, but I was so confused then that I didn't know what to do with those feelings. Then the more I could rationalize, the more I thought of how inappropriate a relationship with you would be, I decided to pretend that you were nothing more than a patient to me."

"That why you treated me for so long? Any other therapist would've said 'fuck it' and kicked my ass out, but you kept me. Was it because you loved me?"

"We're playing 20 Questions tonight," Jennifer said, kissing his shoulder, "Yes, on some level. In the first few years I kept you because you were my patient and you were suffering. I wanted to help you because it was my job to. After I realized what I felt for you, even when everyone, my own therapist, even you yourself told me you were a hopeless case, I kept you because you were still suffering. I loved you, and I didn't want to see you in pain. I hoped there was something I could do for you."

"Why do you love me so much?" Tony asked, "That's what I can't figure out. I know why I love you." He turned to her, softly caressing her cheek. "'Cause you're smart, and gentle, and gorgeous. I'm not any of that. I'm a miserable fuckin' bastard, so why the hell do you stay with me?"

"You can be a miserable bastard sometimes, yes, but you also have redeeming qualities. And you are smart, Anthony; don't try to fool yourself there. In your profession, I doubt you'd still be alive, much less in the position you are, if you were an idiot. And you're right; you're not a gentle man by nature, but you try to be, with me. I love you for that, and for everything else about you that I know and no one else does, the hidden parts of you that you only show to me."

"You're right," Tony conceded, "You're the only person who knows me, Jen."

"I'm the only person you let know you."

He nodded at that, and then laid his head on his pillow, lost in thought and stroking Jennifer's hair absently as he stared up at the ceiling. He was roused only when he felt her weight shifting, and then a cold void where she had been lying. He looked up at her, puzzled, and she offered him her hand with a smile.

"If you're sleeping on the floor tonight, then you're by yourself," she said. He took her hand and let her help him up, smacking her bare ass playfully when he stood and earning himself a disapproving frown. She reached down to pick up her sweatpants from where they had landed near the sofa, and looked for her top as she put them on.

"Anthony, where did you throw my t-shirt?" she asked.

"Hell if I know where it went," he replied, stepping into his boxers. Jennifer's eyes scanned the room and she giggled when she saw that the garment was hanging off of the edge of her television. Tony noticed where she was looking and chuckled, too.

"Fuck it; leave it there and let's go to bed. You won't be needing clothes, anyway."


	8. Emergency

**Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter. I don't. I had a lot of trouble writing it for some reason, and I almost gave up on it but the idea wouldn't go away. So, I hope everything makes sense and reads well and no one's out of character. As always, reviews are welcome, even constructive criticism. I'd love it if you guys would tell me how I'm doing and how you're liking the story.**

Jennifer stepped through her front door shivering and dripping wet from the rain outside. Tony, who had been sitting on the sofa in the living room with the History Channel on and a bowl of ice cream in his hands, turned at the sound of the door opening. If she hadn't been soaked to the bone and chilled, Jennifer would have smiled at the image that he presented. It had been less than a month since she and Tony had taken the leap with their relationship and moved in together, but already it seemed as though he had always lived in her house with her. Jennifer had to admit that, after years of living alone, she enjoyed having a man to come home to. It was good to know that Tony would be there, watching television in his underwear, when she got home from work.

"I was wondering when you were gonna be home," he said, "Tried callin' ya; you didn't answer."

Jennifer shrugged off her soaking blazer and carelessly let it fall to the floor. Her suit was dry-clean only; it was already ruined.

"Yeah," she said, kicking off her pumps and then making her way from the front door into the living room "I had a hell of a day. An emergency with a patient took up my lunch hour, my cell phone died, and I got caught in this storm on the drive home. You should see it out there; it's so bad I got drenched walking from the driveway to the door."

Tony looked her up and down as she stood before him, her wet hair tussled and her damp blouse and skirt clinging to her, putting her every curve on display. He stood up and pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead and then seizing her mouth.

"Anthony," she protested between kisses, "I'm cold, and I'm starving, and I'm soaked…"

"Well then you should get out of those wet clothes and let me warm you up," he said, working at the buttons of her blouse. When he rid her of her skirt and underwear, they fell to the sofa together, she completely naked and Tony in his boxers and undershirt on top of her. Their tongues twisted and tangled together. Jennifer pulled his wife beater up over his head, and then they were skin to skin as well as mouth to mouth. She wriggled out from under his body, then pushed him onto his back and settled on top of him.

Jennifer delighted in the sound of his breath coming fast and heavy with lust as she kissed her way to his neck, fastening her mouth over his skin and licking and suckling. She sunk her teeth in gently, and Tony cried out, not in pleasure but in pain. Worried, she raised her face to look into his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked.

"Nah, it wasn't you. It was…fuck…my arm hurts."

Jennifer's brows furrowed in concern.

"Which arm?"

"Damn…ah…I don't know. My left, I guess."

"Anthony, this could be serious. We should go to the hospital and get them to take a look at you."

"What? No, I'm fine," he said, pulling her back down to him, "I'm gonna be all right."

"No, Anthony, I really think…"

His strangled scream as he clutched his chest cut her off. In panic, Jennifer sprang off of him and onto her feet. Tony fell to the floor, his face contorted in pain.

"Oh…shit…" Jennifer ran into the kitchen, where she kept the only non-mobile phone in her house. She lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed the three numbers, talking in panicked tones when the operator answered. After she had hung up the phone, she ran back to where Tony lay unconscious. With her heart hammering a mile a minute, she knelt down next to him and took his hand. Jennifer knew that he couldn't hear her, but she spoke to him anyway, her words reassuring even though her voice trembled in fear.

**Later That Evening**

Carmela Soprano burst through the doors of the ER waiting room, her daughter following close on her heels. She looked around the nearly-empty room in a panic, and easily spotted Jennifer Melfi, sitting alone in a corner and staring into space. Carmela had only ever seen Jennifer in her work clothes, the finely-tailored and meticulously pressed suits that were her trademark, so it was almost a shock to see her sporting black yoga pants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. As Carmela approached the other woman, she could see that Jennifer's hair was a mess and there was makeup smeared around her eyes.

"Jennifer," she said, "What happened? What's going on?"

"They won't tell me anything," Jennifer replied, her voice dull and flat, "That is, every time I ask they say they don't know anything. I've been waiting for almost an hour to hear something, anything. Maybe they'll talk to you."

Carmela nodded and directed Meadow to sit down before going to the reception desk. Jennifer bit her lower lip and stole a glance at Meadow before quickly turning away and looking at the wall. It was the first time that she had ever seen either of Tony's children, though she felt that she knew both of them simply from how much Tony had spoken of them over the years, both in therapy and outside of it.

From her seat across from Jennifer, Meadow studied her, taking in how she sat with her long legs tucked underneath her, the nervous way her hands rubbed together in her lap, the firm set of her mouth and the unreadable expression in her eyes. Jennifer noticed Meadow staring, and their gazes met for a brief second before Meadow turned away.

Carmela returned, and sat next to her daughter with a frustrated sigh.

"All they'll tell me is that we'll be informed as soon as they have any information on his condition," she said.

Jennifer shook her head. "The same thing they've been telling me since I got here, and I followed the ambulance."

"All we can do is wait," Carmela said. Half an hour later, Jennifer shifted uncomfortably in her chair as her stomach growled loudly enough for the entire waiting room to hear.

"Have you eaten anything?" Carmela asked. Jennifer shook her head.

"Not since this morning," she replied.

"My son's on his way. He's stopping for coffee before he comes here; I could call him and ask him to get you something," offered Carmela.

"No, thank you, I'll be fine."

"Well, okay, but you should eat. You sure you don't want a bagel or something?"

Finally Jennifer assented. When Anthony, Jr. arrived with the coffee and food, Meadow went over to help him with the bag and drink holder, leaving the two older women alone.

"Why are you being so nice to me, Carmela?" Jennifer asked, catching the other woman off-guard. She turned to Jennifer and saw that all traces of her detached, professional façade were gone, worn away by the shock of Tony's illness and her concern for him. Carmela shrugged, not really knowing the answer to that question herself. This was her husband's mistress, the woman who had stolen Tony away from her, once and for all. Jennifer was right; Carmela had no reason to be nice and every right to hate her, but still she couldn't bring herself to be rude or catty, especially under the circumstances.

"What good would it have done if I had come in here and started treating you like shit? It wouldn't help Tony any."

Jennifer was visibly not satisfied with this weak explanation, so Carmela sighed and tried again.

"He loves you, Jennifer. He wants to be with you" she said, "Nothing I do is going to change that. It's hard to accept, and I'm still angry and hurt over it. But we're both here for Tony, and I can see you're as worried about him as I am."

Jennifer nodded, took the cup of strong coffee that AJ awkwardly held out to her, and sat back in her chair. She had finished half of it when a doctor came through the ER door into the waiting room and said, "Soprano family." Carmela, Jennifer and the kids all jumped out of their chairs and went to him. The doctor explained that Tony had had a massive coronary, that his heart had stopped beating for a short time and he had needed to be defibrillated in order to shock it back to life, but that his condition was now stable.

"Which one of you is Jennifer Melfi?" the doctor asked. Hesitantly, with a sidelong look at Carmela, Jennifer stepped forward.

"He's awake now. We're not recommending that he have too many visitors at this time, but he's been asking for you specifically, and he's quite adamant about seeing you. You can follow me back this way," the doctor explained. With her hands shaking and all of her senses numbed, Jennifer followed the doctor to the side of the man she loved.

**One Week Later**

Tony woke up to the sound of steady breathing and the weight and warmth of a hand covering his. With some effort, he managed to maneuver himself into an upright position. From there he could see Jennifer's sleeping form, her body slumped over in a chair next to his bed, her head resting on the thin, uncomfortable mattress and her hair falling in her face.

Tony smiled and reached out to her, running his fingers through the silken softness of her dark locks. Jennifer roused at his touch, lazily opening her eyes and looking around the room, her tired mind slowly taking stock of her surroundings and finally concluding that she was still in the hospital, that she had fallen asleep while sitting with Tony.

"Well, hey there, Sleepin' Beauty," he said. Jennifer smiled. It had been more than a week since the heart attack, and Tony's voice was still weak, just like the rest of his body, but he was beginning to sound like his old self again.

"Hi," she said, yawning slightly.

"How long you been here?" Tony asked, "It was Carmela in here when I fell asleep."

Jennifer nodded. "She stayed with you today while I was at work. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't keep canceling on my patients. I got off of work at six and came straight here so," She looked at her watch, "It's been about five hours. I guess I passed out at some point."

"You know, you're here all the time; you're gonna make yourself sick. If you're tired you should go home, actually sleep in a bed," Tony said. Jennifer dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand.

"I don't want to leave you," she said, "Unless…unless you want me to go."

"Fuck no!" exclaimed Tony, "I was just tryin' to think of you. I like you stayin' with me. It's good for me, havin' you here."

Jennifer laced her fingers through his and squeezed gently, mindful of the IV stuck in the back of his hand. "It's no use trying to go home anyway. I sleep better in a chair next to you than I do alone in my own bed. I can't sleep without you anymore."

Tony smiled at her and tugged on her arm.

"Come here," he said. Jennifer rose from her chair and went to the head of his bed. He reached for her, gently pulling her down so that her face was level with his and claiming her mouth. She returned his affection, sweetly and fleetingly, but when she tried to pull away, Tony moved his hand to the back of her head, holding her lips against his and kissing her in earnest. When he ran his tongue along her lips, he found that she tasted like tears, and pulled away to see that she was crying.

"Hey," he said softly, "What's the matter? What, there something wrong with me they didn't tell me about?"

Jennifer shook her head, quickly brushing tears from her cheek. "It's nothing like that," she reassured him, "It's just…it feels good to kiss you. A little over a week ago you were lying unconscious on the living room floor and I was wondering if we'd ever kiss again, or talk or touch…"

"Shit…Jen, don't cry. You know I hate it when ya do that. I'm fine; I'm gonna be all right. The doctor says I'll be outta here in a couple days."

"Yeah, I know." She touched his face, and the prickle of the stubble on his cheeks was the most real thing that she had felt in more than a week of fear and uncertainty. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't be upsetting you like this. I just…didn't know what was going to happen; none of us did. Your first couple of days here you were in really bad shape. It was all touch-and-go, and the doctors weren't sure..." She bit her lower lip, attempting and failing to stem the onslaught of tears. "I wanted to cry but I couldn't because I was just so afraid. I guess this is just…a delayed reaction."

Tony caught her wrist and then raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and then turning it over and kissing her palm. When he looked up at her, a silent understanding passed between the two of them, and Jennifer stopped crying as she felt a sudden wave of calm wash over her. Wordlessly, she lowered her face to his, and their lips met and held for what could have been a few minutes or a few millennia.

"When the doctor clears me for physical activity," he said after they broke apart, "You and me are gonna pick back up where we left off in the living room."

Jennifer shook her head in amusement. "I have no doubt about that," she replied.

"Yeah, I'd try it here and now if I didn't think we'd break this fuckin' bed."

"You're incorrigible, Anthony," she said with a smile.


	9. Don't Think Just Feel

Jennifer brushed a tear from her cheek as she mindlessly stirred the boiling linguine noodles and looked at the wall adjacent to the stove, where the phone hung limply by a single wire. It had been the closest object to Tony during the argument that he and Jennifer had just had, and, as he had been yelling at her, he had grabbed the phone in rage and ripped it from the wall. Fighting with Tony was nothing new to Jennifer; hell, even during therapy some of their sessions had degraded into miniature arguments. She remembered the day nearly two years ago when she had ended their professional relationship for good and realized that even that had been nothing more than a lovers' spat, before she and Tony had even become lovers.

Their disagreements now were different, though. The heart attack and the subsequent changes that it had caused in Tony's life had left him deeply reflective, and even more depressed than he had been when he was Jennifer's patient. She suspected that when he was at work, he was his usual self, a bastion of strength and a ruthless authority figure, but when he was at home with her, he was a scared and confused little boy, clinging to her one minute and then yelling and ripping appliances off the wall the next. Even before she had taken the time to do extra research on the psychological after-effects of a heart attack, Jennifer had known that both anger and depression were normal emotions for heart attack survivors. Still, the fact that she had a textbook understanding of what to expect hadn't prepared her for the real thing.

What bothered her most was that Tony wouldn't talk to her about what he was feeling, no matter how hard she tried to elicit a conversation on the subject. Her gentle prodding and insistence that talking would help only made him even madder. Jennifer worried about him, but for once in all the time she'd known him didn't have even a hint of an idea of how to help him, because she couldn't if he insisted on shutting her out. She sighed and turned off the heat underneath the pot, hoping that she hadn't overcooked the noodles. After draining them and mixing them with the tomato sauce, she set the dish aside to cool and left the kitchen to look for Tony.

She found him in the bedroom, lying in the dark, fully clothed on top of the covers, staring up at the ceiling. He turned his head only slightly when she opened the door, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway.

"Dinner's ready," she announced, then began to close the door.

"Hey," he said, his voice softened from when he had been raging at her in the kitchen, "Don't leave; come here."

"What do you need, Anthony?" she asked, not moving from the doorway.

"I need you to get the fuck over here," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, and then, more softly, "Just come sit by me." With a sigh, Jennifer closed the door and approached the bed, turning on a lamp before sitting down next to where Tony lay. He blinked in the sudden light and then scooted closer to her, reaching for her hand, which she reluctantly gave him.

"Look," he said, "I'm sorry for being such an asshole earlier."

"An asshole? Anthony, you pulled the phone off of the wall and called me some very hurtful names, all over some ridiculous disagreement; that's more than just simply 'being an asshole.' You were belligerent."

"Hey, I'm tryin' to apologize here" Tony said, dropping her hand.

"You can't just apologize every time you take your anger out on me," Jennifer said, "I understand that you're depressed and frustrated, but you can't keep behaving like this. I can't take anymore of it."

"I know! Damn it!" Tony clenched his hand into a fist and beat it against the mattress, making the whole bed shake. "I'm sorry, I know I've treated you like crap, and you don't deserve it. It's just…I feel like…fuck, I don't know."

Jennifer swung her legs over the side of the bed, moving closer and lying down next to him.

"How do you feel?" she asked, taking his hand. When he didn't respond, she touched his cheek, making him look at her and holding his eyes with her own. "Talk to me, Anthony. I want to be here for you, I want to help, but I can't unless you tell me what's wrong. It hurts that you don't feel that you can talk to me, especially after all the years that our relationship was based on nothing but talking."

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping both of his arms around her waist and laying his head down on her bosom, his cheek resting between her breasts. Jennifer held him and ran her fingers soothingly through his thinning hair as he confessed how impotent and out of control the heart attack had made him feel and how he felt as though his body had betrayed him.

"You know how when you see a huge, fat fuckin' bastard eating a Big Mac and you think to yourself, 'That's a heart attack waiting to happen.'" Tony said, "Do you think everyone saw me that way?"

Jennifer shrugged. "I don't know," she replied, "I can't speak for anyone else, but I never did. I saw powerful, dominating, virile."

Tony said nothing; he simply nuzzled his face deeper into Jennifer's skin, feeling her warmth and taking in the scent of her perfume. The sensation of his stubbled cheek on her flesh made Jennifer's breath catch and her heart race, but she bit her lip and tried to calm herself and not expect too much.

She and Tony's sex life had been practically nonexistent in the three months since his medical emergency. Although the doctor had cleared him for physical activity, Tony's fear of having another heart attack touched every aspect of his life and made sex, previously his favorite activity, a source of anxiety. Lovemaking between them lately consisted exclusively of oral or manual stimulation, usually him trying to please her after losing his erection. Jennifer was patient with him, and gentle, all while pretending that she wasn't frustrated by the lack of physical contact.

But now…now his mouth was on her, kissing the bare skin of her chest and neck, his breath hot and sensual, lighting a fire deep in her belly. She eagerly met his lips when he came up to her face. He kissed her softly at first, the barest brush of his mouth over hers, and then desire took over, he deepening the kiss and she gently sighing as their lips moved together. All rational thought disappeared with the pressure of his lips and the wetness of his tongue as it slid over hers. It had been so long since he had kissed her like this.

Tony rolled over and pulled her against him, so that they both lay on their sides, facing each other, with their mouths locked together. One of his hands ventured over Jennifer's back, then into her pants, caressing her bottom through the fabric of her panties and moving to her crotch, stroking hard and making her groan. His tongue pillaged her mouth and his fingers invaded her underwear, pulling the silk away from her skin and penetrating. He let go of her lips, delighting in her strangled screams as he pleasured her, pulling his fingers out and thrusting back in until she clenched around him and then fell back against the mattress.

"Anthony," she said, reaching for him, "I want you inside me. I want you to make love to me." They shared a long glance, heavy with meaning, during which he silently asked, "But what if I can't?" and she reassured him, letting him know how much she wanted this, _needed_ it. She pulled away from him and unbuttoned her pants, then pushed them down her legs and threw them aside. Her eyes locked with his as she straddled him and began slowly, teasingly removing her shirt, button by button until it, too, was gone. Tony watched raptly as Jennifer reached behind her and unclasped her bra, her firm breasts bouncing slightly as they sprang free.

After she undressed, Jennifer made short work of Tony's clothes, and, when they were flesh to flesh, she kissed him, her tongue dancing languidly with his as one of her hands moved lower and took hold of his manhood, stroking him gently and being rewarded with a long, low moan from Tony. Just as she began to increase her pace, however, he pulled away from her, his breath heavy and fast not from arousal but from fear caused by his racing heart and the sharp but fleeting little pain in his chest that he experienced from time to time if he exerted himself or got too excited.

"Anthony," Jennifer said, "Don't be nervous. You're all right."

"I know...it's just...I was thinkin'..."

"Don't think," she replied, bucking and rolling her pelvis against his, "Just feel. Let it come." She bent down to fasten her mouth on his neck, licking and sucking at the skin there and then moving upwards, running her tongue along the lobe of his ear. Tony felt lust envelop him as he fell under Jennifer's sensual spell, and his hands traveled over her body, taking pleasure in the feel of her, the softness of her back and belly and thighs as he moved his palms over her skin. He took hold of her breasts, caressing them and running his fingers over her hardened nipples, making her sigh and moan.

While he was absorbed with touching her body, making her quiver and driving her wild, Jennifer maneuvered so that the tip of him rested against her opening, and then she brought her hips down and joined them. The pace that she set was slow and gentle, and she urged him to lie back against the pillows while she did everything, working to pleasure them both.

Tony was lost in the thrill of being inside her, her warmth and how impossibly tight she was after months of not being touched. Unable to restrain himself, he began to buck up into her, recovering his stamina and his zest for lovemaking. He wrapped an arm around Jennifer's back, easily flipping them and switching their positions until he was looming over her, balancing himself on his hands as he stroked in and out of her. Jennifer moaned as she savored the sensation of his warm skin, the dense hair on his chest prickling against her stomach and breasts, the medallion around his neck hanging down and brushing her cheek.

She rose up to meet his every thrust, and then gently grabbed the chain of his necklace and pulled him down to her, burying her face in his neck and pressing herself against him so that every inch of her body was covered by his. Tony heard her sigh and felt her shudder in orgasm. Her release sent him over the edge, and he came with a litany of softly-muttered profanities and collapsed on top of her, utterly spent and still wrapped up in pleasure. Whenever he moved to pull out, Jennifer crossed her legs behind his back, holding him inside of her.

"Don't," she whispered, "Stay here." Tony happily obliged, not wanting to leave her, to break their union and make them two separate bodies. He placed a kiss on her forehead, savoring the tang of her sweat-slicked skin and then kissing her cheek, skimming his mouth along her jaw. She returned his kisses and stroked his back, and Tony realized that he felt truly happy, truly alive, for the first time since his heart attack. Jennifer was his remedy, his salvation, his rock.

Not knowing how to properly communicate all of this to her, he simply said, "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

Jennifer nodded. "I know."

"And I really am sorry…ya know, for how I've been lately. You deserve better than that. You're the only fuckin' thing that got me through all this shit." He claimed her lips, and she eagerly kissed him back, pressing herself more tightly against him.

"Apology accepted," she said when they broke apart, "But from now on you talk to me if you have a problem, ok? It's what I'm here for; it's what I do."

"Yeah, I know," Tony replied. After a moment of contented silence, Jennifer pulled her hips away from his, disengaging them. Tony looked at her confusedly.

"I'm hungry," she explained, reaching for her discarded clothes, "You should eat too. If dinner isn't too cold by now."


End file.
